The Question
by S.Walden
Summary: Yamato finally finds the nerve to ask Takeru a question he has had on his mind for weeks. One-shot.


The Question

Summary: Yamato finally finds the nerve to ask Takeru a question he has had on his mind for weeks. One-shot.

A/N: A semi-autobiographical piece for me. Don't expect this to happen too often. I was feeling nostalgiac. Doesn't fit in the anime canon or anything. Just a short one-shot.

Pairings: One sided Yamakeru

* * *

I had been contemplating it a long time, but that week was one that I finally knew. I would ask him. Thinking back, it was really childish and naïve of me to think he would say yes. I remember my heart pounding and I remember the inaudible voices of our classmates elsewhere on the playground drowning out the sound.

I guess at the time the entire thing made sense to me. I had spent our entire childhood watching over him and in the last year, when we had finally been able to attend school together, I thought we had become close. I mean, I remember sitting on top of this old playground castle- made entirely of wooden logs and metal. We were sitting at the very top, like we were kings of the world, looking down on everyone else.

He had pestered me for some time- that is, to show him how to play my harmonica. He had always wanted to learn and it was no secret from anyone I could play well. It was the only thing that made me feel better when he wasn't by my side. I would spend entire recess' sometimes, just playing under this tree that provided a huge circle of shade and quiet.

Takeru always had blonder hair than me and it was evident the way the sun hit the top of his head and gave him this halo of gold. I explained not to just blow into it- "All you'll do is make a racket. Tilt it against your lips."

He managed to play pretty well. I suppose musical talent ran in the family.

Then, there was this time. Mom had given him a small, wooden rosary. He loved it, carried it with him all the time. One day, on the playground, I was off doing my own thing when I noticed the beads weren't hanging at his side. Curious, I wanted to ask him where they were. Maybe he had left them at home. Then, I saw him crying. He was standing alone, sniffling. I wanted to ask him if he had lost them. Instead, knowing he wouldn't tell me out of embarassment if I approached him, I went to ask the other kids. That was when I found the monkey bars and Taichi hanging from them, waving the cross around.

He had no right to carry it.

So I punched him to the ground. Another kid had broken his arm once from such a fall, but Taichi hadn't been so lucky. Of course, he hit me back. He wasn't going to take that from me. We had contests with everything, being two young boys vying for our friends' attention. Running, eating; even grades were competition to us. I still don't know what had posessed him to take my brother's rosary, but that didn't matter then and I never questioned him about it after.

I just remember seeing red.

Someone had made my brother cry.

That was completely unforgivable.

I remember the stinging in my knuckles and the blood from his nose. I had a cut on my cheek. We rolled across the gravel and exchanged blows, gathering a crowd. I don't remember who was cheering for who or if our friends just wanted more bloodshed. I would have given them something to fulfill that either way, but someone told a teacher.

She had carted us over to the benches where, if kids had gotten time out for their recess, they would sit. They were horrible, metal benches that hurt if you sat on them too long. I always suspected it was some kind of school staff conspiracy. They were attatched onto this concrete slab and we stood at either end, trying to catch our breaths and wiping blood from our faces. I held a deathgrip on the rosary and looked over to Takeru, who seemed more concerned than happy.

I thought I had done the right thing, defending him, but it only seemed to hurt him more that I had fought. Then again, Takeru had witnessed our parents fighting often enough before the divorce and even though he was too young to remember the details, he knew what shouting was. He knew that fighting made people unhappy.

I wonder if that was the reason he said no.

Or maybe he just knew better.

Brothers didn't love one another that way. He never said that, but I suspected that was how he felt. In my mind as I took each heavy step towards him, the kids' idle laughter and chatter drowning out my thoughts even then, I could only try to reason with myself: love didn't matter when it came to who or why. Just that I felt how I did.

I waited until he finished talking to his friend and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Takeru?"

He turned to me with the brightest blue eyes. "What is it?" he asked curiously.

I stared at him, already knowing the answer to my question, "Takeru... would you... go out with me?"

He immediately turned away as if I had slapped him. My heart sank and shattered.

"I... I can't."

That was all he could say.

So, I did the only thing I could do. "I-I understand. I'm sorry I asked."

"We're still friends, you know," he replied, trying to reassure me.

"Yeah," I told him, giving a weak smile, a wave, and returned back to that spot under the tree, playing my harmonica. Later, Takeru would tell me, that it was the saddest song I ever played.


End file.
